


in fate’s fragile hands

by icemachine



Series: doom patrol daily drabbles [4]
Category: Doom Patrol (TV)
Genre: Gen, Post-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 13:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20258773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icemachine/pseuds/icemachine
Summary: It marks an hour of Jane struggling to get off of the table, when the Spirit enters the room.





	in fate’s fragile hands

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: 83. in fate's fragile hands

It marks an hour of Jane struggling to get off of the table, when the Spirit enters the room. Larry  _ has  _ to sleep, at some point, and with him being the only normal sized person in the manor - that creates a  _ predicament  _ when they need to be mobile.

Not that there’s really anywhere else she can go. None of the others had tried to make it up here, instead preferring to remain on the ground. Where they could, very  _ very  _ easily, be crushed if Larry made one wrong move. She only made it onto the table because Flit forced her there after seeing a magazine - that turned out to be from the 1970s, of course, because their lives always go this way, one unfortunate detail and another and another and another and now she’s the size of a cockroach. Of fucking  _ course. _

She doesn’t pay attention to it. The spirit just - does this, sometimes, floats curiously around the manor, watching everyone. It’s a bit eerie, but you get used to it. Instead she focuses on getting down. No one else, including Flit, wants to front. If she tries to jump down, she could seriously injure herself. 

Wonderful.

She’ll just have to wait for Larry to wake up, which - seeing the Negative Spirit next to her - could take - who even fucking knows how long. Another hour? Several hours?

…

Wait.

The Negative Spirit is next to her. 

The Negative Spirit is next to her and she can hear it pulse, can hear its energy crackle  _ fast; _ the air around the Spirit becomes incredibly, unbearably cold. Biting, freezing, and she's frozen. It has never been this close to her before. Except for the time that it - and Cliff - the Underground -  **no ** \- that doesn't count. Jane wasn't conscious for that. She wasn't here, so: it has never been this close to her before. 

She pulls her sleeves over her hands. Armor.

All that she can see is electricity like a tower, a mountain covering her view. It's looking down at her, she thinks - even from far away, Jane can see the brightness of its white eyes. Staring at her. It's - mesmerizing, for a moment, until she starts shivering. It's still gazing at her without moving.

"What's your deal?" she asks. "Tired of Larry? Need a break?"

Its head moves slightly, up and down, side to side. Yes - and - no.

"What the fuck?"

She's always wondered why the spirit doesn't talk. Maybe it can't, maybe it doesn't want to, maybe it's on a frequency that they cannot hear. But - it's making a gesture now, holding its hands out to her. For a second. She doesn't know what goes on with Larry, but it's the most communication she's ever seen from the Spirit.

And -

And it's bending down, onto its knees. In front of her. It is so  _ close _ , now, eyes like a sun in the sky, its blue current like rays of light on her skin. She stops noticing the cold. She stops noticing everything around her beyond the Spirit. It is - she hates this word - almost beautiful. 

"Okay," Jane breathes. "What do you want?"

It holds a hand out, again, right up against the edge of the table. Jane isn't stupid; she knows what it's trying to tell her.

"How do I know I'm not going to fall right through you? I mean, no offense, but you don't look... solid."

It doesn't move. This is the moment that she realizes she has no other choice. She thinks about trust. Trust, she thinks, can be unburied. Trusting the non-verbal alien ghostlike being might be an uncomfortably big leap of faith, but: there are no other options.

It feels tingly, when Jane climbs onto its hand, and it vibrates underneath her; she's barely able to keep herself still and standing, unfortunately reminiscent of the ANT Farm's elevator, but - it places her on the floor, gently, so gentle that Jane's beliefs both fade and strengthen. The Spirit has never seemed gentle, but. Trust had always seemed difficult, but.

"Thanks," she says. Jane watches it move back through the walls, back to Larry's body, and wonders. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading and as always feedback is appreciated! <3


End file.
